Vengeance & Homicidal Rage Fantasies!!!

Warning!!! Trigger Warning!!! Warning!!!

This slideshow contains graphic images of homicidal fantasies that are gory, bloody and disturbing. Do not continue if you do not want to see these images!!

You could go to Courageous Steps and read a poem that really resonated with me that was written by Mary from Nippercat's Home or see some of my fingerpainting that has not been posted here on Clinically Clueless.

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY ~ October 8 & 9, 2005 ~ Part II ~ Depression

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY ~ October 8 & 9, 2005 ~ Part II continued

The suicidal thoughts are really loud as is the planning. I really, really want to cut. Trying to figure out how and when I can purchase stuff. The promises are beginning not to matter. I just want to stop the feelings...feeling really anxious...really want to take all my medications tonight and just go to sleep. Thinking it wouldn't matter. I don't matter. I just want to die. I want the pain to stop. I want the flashbacks to stop. I'm tearing up again.

I don't understand, I thought my step-father's father was better to me than my step father, but he turned out to be just as bad to me. I thought he liked me and I was beginning to like him. Confusing because I liked his attention, but it meant that he would hurt me. Feel bad because I keep thinking it happened because I wanted him to like me and pay attention to me. I kept wondering what I did wrong to make him turn on me.

Always wondering what I did wrong. Everything had to be my fault. I could have done something to prevent it. I need to fix it...make it better, but don't know how. I just want to die right now. I'm feeling really bad and wanting to cut and bruise and just die. I don't think it would make a difference if we talked. I just want to curl up disappear and die. [just this week, I finally got it on a deeper level that I didn't do anything wrong...they were really sick.]

Talking with you today helped. I remember feeling like this almost all the time especially as a teenager and it was so much worse on the weekend. Often times, I tried to sleep most of the day because I had a headache. I now know that they were migraines. Remember, wanting to die, kill myself or cut or bruise especially on the weekend. The weekends were always difficult. Usually something would happen. Every Saturday, with my mother and every Sunday with my step-father. Too much...just wanted to die. Sad that I remember being really young and having the same type of thoughts and feelings...so much pain, so early.

So many times feeling like crying and not doing so...hurts so much. Felt good just to be able to let you know how painful and difficult this weekend is. Never being able to share it before as it happened...keeping quiet. Keeping it to myself. Numb out make it go away.

Wanting so much not to feel and for the flashbacks to stop. The crying seems to make the flashbacks more real. Felt food just to be able to leave messages and to talk with you. Helped to ground me some. Kept going into I don't matter, nothing matters and the promises don't matter.

Just with the memories, I remember how much pain and how much I wanted to scream and cry. Feeling like crying now. Seems like so much happened. Seems like so much pain and other feelings. Seems overwhelming. Feels panicky, feels bad. So many time, I didn't cry when I really need to. It isn't just what happened or how my mother was, but it is realizing how self- destructive I became to cope. [new realization at that point in time]

Reminder: Courageous Steps has the fingerpaintings and commentary for these dates. Please check it out.

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY ~ October 8 & 9, 2005 ~ Part I ~ Depression

Geoffrey,

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY

For the most of the day, I've been feeling really depressed and the suicidal thought/plans have been really, really loud as has been wanting to really hurt myself or cut and bruise. I had difficulty getting out of bed and got up and laid on the couch until my husband went to work. Then, I went back to bed and slept on and off until about 1:30 pm. Didn't feel like showering or brushing my teeth.

Tried to catch up on work, but couldn't focus. Tried to play computer games, listen to the tapes from church, and do some laundry. Did the laundry, but curled up in bed. Finally, took a shower around 2:30 pm and still couldn't focus enough to do anything especially work.

It has been really loud in my head and I've been wanting just to curl up and die. Having flashbacks of being at my step-father's parents. I left you some messages and fingerpainted [which is posted on my Courageous Steps blog for today]. After I painted, I left a message. At the end began to cry and started sobbing into the office pillow you gave me. Cried for almost an hour.

I think, the fingerpainting made me realize that the thoughts had to do with being in pain. When I begin to cry, I had some images of me crying sitting in the dirt after my step-father's father forced himself on me. Also, sitting on the garage floor crying and rocking, which I was doing on the bed after they had forced themselves on me, and after being spanked by my mother and step-father.

Also, had an image of me sitting on my grandparents porch, curled up and crying. So much pain...other feelings in the crying, but don't know what they are. The most prominent is pain. Then, I just wanted to really hurt myself, cut, bruise, take the pills...anything to stop from hurting. I'm tearing up now.

Observations: From reading this, it sounds like I am getting more depressed, dissociating/fragmenting more frequently which is effecting my concentration. Basically, I am continuing my spiral downward and my work is really beginning to be effected. I noticed that I am also calling Geoffrey more which means I'm becoming for fragmented and needing him to ground me. This is the first part of this entry. Tomorrow, I will finish the entry. Also, don't forget to go to Courageous Steps to check out the corresponding fingerpaintings that go with this date.

Child Abuse ~ "Dear Mr. Jesus" ~ PowerSource 1986

I first heard this song when I was 21 years old working at a runaway youth shelter. I was at the beginning, not even a year, with my current therapist. At the time, I had no realization how much like them my teenage years were, nor thought of myself as abused even though my mother was still slapping or slugging me in the back. However, when I heard this song for the first time, I had to pull over because I burst into sobs and didn't understand why. I thought, "maybe, I am just feeling for the kids (that I work with)." Boy, do I know different now and I thought in honor of my denial veil starting to shred that it would be a good time to post it.

The song is from the Christian group called PowerSource from their 1986 album Shelter from the Storm (Psalm 91:1). I doubt that they are in existence now. But, I wanted to share the verse with you which reads, "Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty."

There is also a verse (Psalm 27:10) that is listed below the song title and reads. "Even if my father and mother abandon me, the Lord will hold me close." Which reminds me of one of my favorite verses for its comfort. It is Isaiah 49: (14)15-16 which reads, "But Zion said, 'The Lord has forsaken me, the Lord has forgotten me.' Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me."

These two verses are comforting to me as I know what it feels like to be abandoned and rejected by my mother and my father, but I know that God created me, never has and never will abandon or reject me. These verses are very special to me as when I read them I felt as if they were speaking directly to my soul.

(I know, I got all religious on you, but that is a part of who I am also and the purpose of the blog is for me to be myself. And, I felt like I just had to write this.) May you be blessed today! CC

Thinly Veiled Denial ~ Child's Play!

I've been holding this thin veil of denial of how extreme my home environment was as well as how extreme my symptoms were/are. I have always been embarrassed and ashamed about the way that I played with my stuffed animals and dolls. But, I started writing and talking about it in therapy last week. I know what the implications of how I played are and don't want that reality to sink in, but like with my "new" diagnosis, I really can't look at it in any other way.

In play projection is used, operating unconsciously, in which what is emotionally unacceptable in the self is unconsciously rejected and attributed (projected) to others or to toys like stuffed animals and dolls in children to be integrated later. For children they are given the opportunity to play out his accumulated feelings of tension, frustration, insecurity, aggression, fear, bewilderment, confusion or to reenact what was done to them.

I know this; yet, I am ashamed and embarrassed to reveal it to you for fear that you will think I was a disturbed child. Well, the truth, is that I was a disturbed child and what child wouldn't be growing up how I did. I also know that if I saw a child playing like this that I would wonder how are we going to remove the kid as soon as possible from the home. I'm going to close my eyes now, so I can't see how bad it was. (Doesn't work, just flashbacks...well, it was worth a try. It seems to work for kids, but I'm not anymore. I am an adult still trying to deal with the world with my child defenses.)

The following is a Wordle that I did on how I played with my stuffed animals. I shared the information with my therapist. One of the disturbing things, is that there were stuffed animals that I was afraid of due to their violent nature toward each other and me or the suicidal ones or the homicidal ones. This is not what children growing up in a healthy environment project onto their stuffed animals. Most children only project comforting things which is why they are soft and cuddly. Most of the words on it is what I did, my projections or some type of reenactments of what was done to me. And, some are just feelings I had about them or my home such as being angry, frustrated, scared of some of them, thinking something was wrong with me, bad and ashamed.

(Click on the picture for a larger view)

Further adding to the tearing down of my denial and my shame is how I played with my Ken and Barbie dolls. I also had two others that were much smaller, so I made them the children. I made huge house extensions using my children’s encyclopedias. One of the smaller dolls was the child the other one was usually a friend. Barbie used to yell, hit and slap the child. I also would hit her or put her in a corner or throw her across the room. Ken would undress her and use his belt or a kitchen utensil to hit her all over, but usually laying face down on the bed. Sometimes, she would be on her back with her legs up and hit. Sometimes, clothing or string would be used to tie her down. Sometimes, they would have sex together. Sometimes, I would put her in the corner of my closet and close the door for days because I couldn't stand to see her.

Shows a lot of reenactment and projection especially of feeling bad and needing to be punished and self-hatred. I don't want to know that I played that way, but it isn't a repressed memory. I have always known that I played this way and just never wanted to see the implications even though I knew. Now, it works to verify what really happened and I don't want to look at it. I was a disturbed child for good reasons. I feel a little sadness, pain and compassion as I remember playing that way. It would be disturbing for me now to watch a child play in that manner. I would want to know, "what the hell happened to this kid!"

Reality Settles Even Deeper ~ Dissociative Disorder NOS

Although the following video is about children, I think it gives a good description of how dissociative disorders develop which if left untreated continue into adulthood creating significant problems with daily living. (Plus, it was the only decent one I could find.)

First of all "dissociation is a mental process that causes a lack of connection in a person's thoughts, memory and sense of identity. Dissociation seems to fall on a continuum of severity. Mild dissociation would be like daydreaming, getting "lost" in a book, or when you are driving down a familiar stretch of road and realize that you do not remember the last several miles. A severe and more chronic form of dissociation is seen in the disorder Dissociative Identity Disorder, once called Multiple Personality Disorder, and other Dissociative Disorders. (Mental Health America)

Dissociative Disorder (NOS) is different from DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder), so please don't confuse the two. Tempy over at Crackers and Juice Boxes wrote a post where part of it was excellent on explaining the continuum. Please take a look at her post. I have provided the links and while your there take a look around.

"People who suffer a severe trauma might wrestle with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). If a person experiences ongoing and severe trauma, particularly if the trauma began when the person was a young child, he might develop an even more severe dissociative disorder, with the most extreme disorder being Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). Because a child is creating a way to survive severe trauma, the resulting dissociative disorder might not fall neatly into a description of DID or other pre-defined dissociative disorder. If the person's symptoms are clearly dissociative in nature but do not fall under any of the predefined criteria for DID or other dissociative disorder, the diagnosis is likely to be Dissociative Disorder--Not Otherwise Specified (DD-NOS). (e-how ~ Faith Allen)"

So, why am I bring this short description up now?. I was recently diagnosed with Dissociative Disorder-NOS which is due to a chronic and severely abusive, traumatic childhood. Since I worked in the mental health field, I knew that I have been fitting the criteria. However, I never discussed it because I didn't want to hear the answer. But, I actually saw it in two letters last week for appeals with my insurance company from both my psychiatrist and my therapist.

It surprisingly has had an impact on me. I am feeling a distressed. I think, because it indicates how horrendous things really were growing up. I understand how this develops and I never really thought of my circumstances as that bad. Although this blog has made that harder to believe. In reality, that was my own thinly veiled denial which I am coming out of and dealing with my past and my feelings in therapy. Still this made reality bigger. It is like I can't ignore it. That combined with Friday's session which I will write about tomorrow, has me really wanting to defend which I am.

Instead of using the word dissociate, I usually say, "going away" or "fragmenting" or "leaving" or "feeling disconnected." At times, I will lose touch with reality, become disoriented, lose time, not hear parts of conversations, become unresponsive, and mentally and emotionally "leave."

Writing this was difficult and has really been the first time that I have really acknowleged my "new" diagnosis. I think this was a good step for me. However, I still do not want to believe that my childhood was that bad, but I really do know. But, sometimes, I still want to pretend.

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY ~ September 29, 2005 ~ 12:50 PM, Part II ~ Memories Continue!

Continuation of PAST JOURNAL ENTRY ~ September 29, 2005

[Looking at my journals, I had entered into a period of a flood of a variety of memories that were intrusive and felt like something new was coming at least everyday. I felt this incredible need to write and then to read what I wrote to Geoffrey. Just remembering what occurred and telling it for the first time, I felt ashamed wondered if he believed me, wondered if I believed myself, felt bad, was sure something bad was going to happen, felt overwhelmed, panicked, was having panic attacks, disassociating, and having a difficult time keeping it together. I was still working at the time. It was a really rough period. I now know that it is true and am feeling more as I rewrite these entries. I'm ready, sort of, to accept them now as a part of my life, some of the time.]

My step-father's garage had four ping-pong tables set up for slot cars and one table for playing ping-pong. I remember cheering and getting into the race with my step-father and his father. My mother was standing off to the side and I knew she was already angry and agitated. Then, all of a sudden she started screaming at me for being so loud even though they were much louder than I was. [In hindsight, she was angry with Gene not paying attention to her and that I was involved, so I became the target of her anger, again.]

My mother grabbed my right arm really hard and I kept saying that I was sorry. [I didn't even know what I was sorry for, I just hoped it would stop her from being angry.] She dragged me over to the ping-pong table and took the green ping-pong paddle and spanked me. She just kept hitting me and it felt like she was never going to stop. She kept telling me I was bad. [Again, the reinforcement that I was bad.]

My mother seemed so out of control and it hurt so much that I wanted to scream and cry, but didn't dare. [I had learned not to cry so long ago. It was so automatic not to cry no matter how scared or how much emotional or physical pain I was in.] She just kept hitting and yelling at me about how bad I was, that I made too much noise and that I needed to behave. Then, she finally stopped and just left me there and went over to my step-father and leaned on him and watched them play. [Borderline personality splitting. My step-father was all good and I was all bad. He existed and I didn't. She needed an outlet for her rage and didn't direct it at the person that she was really angry with because he was all good and she needed him. Also, the borderline jealousy of her perceiving that I was getting the attention that she deserved.]

I felt like I didn't exist. Everyone ignored me and pretended like nothing happened. I just stood there for a while. I really don't know what I did after, but that evening I remember being bruised and having the pattern of the raised parts of the paddle. It hurt so much to sit, but I pretended that nothing happened. But, I really wanted to scream and cry and kept wondering what I did wrong. [Feeling really alone, confused invisible and empty.]

During another time, I remember my step-father getting really angry with me because he wanted to play with the slot cars, but I wanted to play ping-pong. [Childish and narcissistic] Then, the look on his face changed and I was really terrified. He started calling me a spoiled brat and grabbed my left arm really hard and pulled my shorts and underwear down and took the red ping-pong paddle that was almost bare of the rubbery stuff. He began to spank me really hard and just kept hitting me. It hurt much more than my mother and I was so scared that he was not going to stop. [Again, being the target for his rage because he could not control me.]

But, I was more afraid that he would tell my mother that I was bad that day. He kept yelling about how bad and selfish I was. I remember going away during much of this. I'm beginning to remember how scared I was , how much it hurt and how much I wanted to scream and cry. With him holding me I felt so trapped. It really hurt to sit and I was much more bruised than when my mother spanked me.

[Rewriting these journal entries and especially this one, I keep wanting to say that I was not physically abused. But, I read it and know that this is physical abuse enough to take a child out of the home. I'm wrestling with accepting the reality of my life. Sometimes, I just have a hard time believing so much could occur. And, I fight the sadness and the tears. The first time reading this and remembering, I felt the rage.]

My Truth ~ My Childhood (Director's Cut)

When I completed the last slideshow, I felt that it was incomplete as I had to edit out too many of the pictures and what I wanted to say out of it. I am using a different program and have more room for images, so this one feels like it reflects my childhood until therapy began at 21 best. At the end, is a picture of God's promise to me...I'm not there yet, but I'm working on it...excuse me, WE, all of those who support me including God, are working on it.

This program allows for pause, back up and forward. It also does not automatically start, so it is not running all the time. I like that part because you can choose to run it or not.

Trigger Warning as usual. Shows graphic depictions and triggers of verbal, physical, and sexual abuse. Do not watch it you are not in a safe place and if triggered take care of yourself. Remember, don't push yourself.

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY: August 28, 2005 ~ Hitting & Crying

Geoffrey,

After talking about the teasing...I also feel like crying which is stuck in my throat. I can also feel it in my chest and stomach. Really just wanting to just go away. Completely numb out. I remember feeling like this a lot growing up.

I am really wanting to hurt myself so much. I so much want to cut and bruise...both, one doesn't seem like enough right now. Remember, so much hurt when they teased. It was like they were intentionally being mean and felt like a personal attack on who I was, so I wanted to just go away disappear and die. Felt so embarrassed that I even asked or shared anything.

Had difficulty staying asleep Friday night. Kept waking up feeling like I was being teased, but mostly feeling like my mother was hitting me. Remember, so many times just sitting in my room feeling like crying, but not daring to do so. Somewhere very, very early I decided not to cry. And it became easy to shut it down quickly where no one would notice. Crying would just create more difficulties. Either, I would get teased more. Or if if was related to an argument, or getting hit or screamed at, it would just make it worse. On/off flashing back to sitting in my room or lying in my bed feeling like crying. Seems like I wanted to cry quite frequently.

Some flashbacks are of my mother slapping me...scared me so much and I felt so trapped...couldn't move because it would make her more angry and she would hit me more. Couldn't say anything and I wouldn't dare cry, no matter what...it would just make it worse. Just pretend nothing happened which is what she did too.

Remember, how hard she would hit, sometimes knocking me off balance, sometimes, she would grab me up off the floor, sometimes she'd knock my glasses off my face. I remember some how how hard she would hit. Sometimes, it would sting for a long time after she left. It really hurt. And sometimes it really, really hurt if she caught my cheek bone with her wedding ring which was really heavy. Feeling panicky now.

Sometimes, she would use her right hand, but mostly, she would use he left hand. She was able to use both with equal force. Sometimes, she would grab my arm and hold me when she slapped me which meant she was really angry, so it hurt more and then it could mean multiple slaps. I just wanted to hide my face which would have made it worse.

A couple of times, I bit the inside of my lip or cheek and bleed, but never let her see it. Afterward, I just went to the restroom and rinsed my mouth out. When I was older, she it harder and sometimes slugged me with her fist on my back which was worse because I was usually taken off guard some as she came from behind. She would knock the wind out of me. She rarely left marks except for maybe some small bruises on my arms. Sometimes, she would be completely silent and just leave, other times, she would be screaming at me...never understood what I did wrong.

It was so much worse if she was screaming because that would enrage my step-father and he would grab me and start screaming in my face. Sometimes, I would hit myself afterward or later that evening or the next day. When I was a little older, I would either cut or bruise. What I really wanted to do, but could not even do so by myself is cry and scream.

Sometimes, I could identify what I did wrong, but that was rare. Funny thing is that when I actually did something wrong, my mother usually lectured and grounded me which was rare. Sometimes, she would ignore what I did. Really confusing and unpredictable.

I'm really feeling like cutting and bruising. Numb out. Feel bad. Feel sick and keep having flashbacks. Want the feeling to stop. My feelings were hurt a lot...realizing maybe I wasn't too sensitive, but that is was just really bad. I feel like crying and it is still stuck.

Observations: When I first wrote this two years ago, I was really for the first time writing down somewhat of how bad my mother used to get with hitting me. What also strikes me is my inability to cry which stopped in infancy. It currently, like my last session, is a problem because I really, really feel like crying, but all my defenses are extremely high (fragmenting, suicidal thoughts, want to injure myself, etc...) There just seems to be so much prohibition to not cry. I can really feel it now and I just ache all over and my throat, chest, stomach and neck really hurt.

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY: August 25, 2005 ~ Teasing

I've been debating in my head whether or not to share this journal entry because if my family read it especially my mother, they would know this is me. However, it feels like I really need to say something because it is still a source of great embarrassment and pain. Teasing seems like such a simple thing, but both my therapist and psychiatrist used the word sadistic in describing what my mother and step-father did. No one in my family will probably read this anyway. But, I consider this a brave step.

Geoffrey,

I am remembering being teased at school about wearing the same shoes, jacket and glasses everyday..."same old." I remember coming home and telling my mother and step-father about it. They responded by laughing and repeating the same taunts and added their own like, "same old Clueless." I remember being confused and angry and like it would have been better if I hadn't said anything in the first place.

I just wanted some comfort and maybe another pair of shoes. They continued to tease me on/off for a while even years later my mother still does it now. Sometimes, it would be "Same old Clueless, Same old pants, Same old shirt, Same old dress, and same old face." The same old Clueless and face were the most hurtful. [I still am embarrassed just by writing this...like something is wrong with me.]

I learned not to share problems with other kids with them. I just wanted some comfort and to know how to handle it. Afterward, I just felt so bad...I was being too sensitive and wanted just to die. I walked away feeling a little angry...and ended up being told, "Same old Clueless is being too sensitive again."

I remember my best friend in Elementary school telling me she was 1/4 (insert race) [well, now you know, I'm not Caucasian!] and I came home and told them and asked how much (insert race) was I? They immediately laughed. I felt so embarrassed, like I shouldn't have asked, I should already know, it was a silly question. My stomach sank and my throat got tight. [I teared up the first time I wrote this]

My mother asked what makes you think that you are not all (insert race). I said I didn't know, but my friend isn't, so how much am I. I remember feeling so ashamed for not knowing. I'm not even sure I ever got an answer. But, they both continued to tease me even after I was married and my step-father was out of the picture, my mother called me "1/4 Clueless."

I was really confused. I thought I was asking a simple question. I didn't understand genetics. [I didn't know exactly what my biological parent were and my step-father was Caucasian. I feel really ashamed just writing this.] I just wanted my question answered. I stopped asking too many questions or asked my grandparents.

I remember learning in school about embryos and that at the beginning you can't differentiate human ones from some animal ones. One area of commonality is that a small tail forms on both. She explained that in humans it became the tail bone and in animals it develops into a tail. I was really excited and thought it was interesting, so I came home and told my mother and step-father when they came home.

They wouldn't let me finish and started teasing me and kept saying "where is your tail." By then, I was so flustered that I couldn't remember the answer and said something like it goes in your pants. They started laughing even more and asked me to pull out my tail. They were laughing so hard and I was so humiliated. They even told the rest of my family. I felt like my feelings were crushed. I went to being so excited to feeling really bad that I couldn't remember the right answer. I just wanted to share something exciting. As a result, I stopped sharing even more and became more withdrawn.

I never received a telephone call, card or gift from my father except for one. It was a stuffed animal, a frog. Well, I didn't like them, but my mother and step-father thought it was funny and began making frog sounds and purchasing frog t-shirts and knick-knacks. This was really painful given my relationship with my father and that I didn't like frogs.

[This feels like a good place to insert that I have always been scared of snails. I know it is unreasonable. But, my step-father knowing this used to chase me around with them, line them on the walkway so I'd get upset, used them in some of the sexual abuse, and put them on the outside of my bedroom window. Once, while running away from him I bit my mother and lost my tooth and was she mad at me.]

[Although this was written two years ago the next two paragraphs still hold true right now.] I felt so ashamed. Even embarrassed to write this. Felt humiliating. I can hear them laughing. Sometimes, I would hit myself with my fist. What makes it worse is that they would tease for at least everyday, several times a day for about a week, then occasionally. But, my mother still brings it up now by saying, "Oh, you remember same old Clueless...same old face...same old shoes. You're 1/4 aren't you? Show us your tail." [It confuses my husband, but now he knows not to ask my family questions. I'll tell him later]

I just laugh it off and walk away. I'm really embarrassed and afraid to say anything fearing the same responses of more teasing or being told I'm just too sensitive or that I'm making a big deal out of nothing.

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY: August 23, 2005

Geoffrey,

I've been feeling tearful on and off for the past couple of weeks. Not really sure why. I think, some of it is remembering how bad I felt all the time and how anxious and overwhelmed and scared. Also, realizing how young the self-injury began and the circumstance of my family and how I wouldn't cry.

Yesterday, at the end of the session, was really difficult because usually the flashbacks are more isolated to one room...like I'm not aware of the whole atmosphere or the other rooms in the house. But, it was like I was literally in my room at the apartment and was aware of the whole place, the atmosphere, the sounds, the sounds outside, feeling my feet on the carpet, just aware of all my surroundings. It was quite disturbing because how I felt then went with it.

It was like I was standing in my room after my mother came in and yelled at me, grabbed me and slapped me during an argument with my step-father. I remember how bad I felt and how confused I was and feeling really alone and scared to move or say anything. I just stood in the middle of my room feeling like crying, but not daring to do so.

So easy to make the tears go away. Wanting so much to just disappear and die. Not understanding what I did wrong. And afraid she would come in again. Remember Gene turning up the volume of the television and my mother banging around in the kitchen. The dilemma, do I go in and offer to help to calm her down or will it make it worse or will she suddenly call me angry that I didn't know that she wanted help. (my stomach, chest and throat hurt)

In that position so many times. She really did hit a lot and I was scared all the time. After a while it didn't hurt anymore and I got a little more attuned when it was going to happen, so I was able to brace myself and numb out a little. And, she yelled or screamed at me quite frequently. Sometimes, it would anger my step-father then he'd start screaming at me. I was terrified...he'd get that look in his eyes and would grab my arm and get right in my face. I couldn't move because of the way he held my arm. I hurt too.

I can hear them yelling at each other and at me in my head...it is so loud and I just want to die. I was so scared all the time. I used to bruise or burn myself sometimes just to numb out or stop myself from crying. I used to hit myself after my-step father would touch me. I used to think that he only used his fingers when I was in bed except for the time at his parents, but he did more. I feel like crying. It was on the days that he would take care of me. It was in the morning.

Seems like there was yelling almost constantly from before I was even born. Feels like I was scared of everyone my mother, my step-father, his father, my father, and his father.

I also remember I liked living with my grandparents and grandpa walking me to school, kindergarten. Also, remembering wishing I could disappear or that I needed to die because they argued about me, my mother and father. Afterward, I was never sure if she was going to come to me angry or wanting my comfort.

I remember a few times waiting on the porch for him and them arguing before we left. I remember his apartment and sleeping on the couch staring at the Cheerios on top of the refrigerator. Remember being afraid of his temper. He was really strict, so I felt like I was afraid to say anything. One time, he spanked me with his belt with my pants down because I spilled the cereal. I was three and terrified. Slowly, the visits stopped and were never overnight or where he lived.

Just seems like I was scared and anxious all the time...don't really remember not being so. Felt so alone, my stomach, chest and throat hurt again. Every now and then, I get like a wave of sadness or fear go through my body. I remember feeling that much of the time. I can't cry even though I feel like it.

The arguing, my mother or my step-father screaming at me, my mother slapping me and the bruising and burning happened a lot more than I thought I wanted to acknowledge. Keep having waves of anxiety and wanting to cry. I guess, that is what it was like then, all the time, even when it was quiet. It didn't take much for it to change in a split second. I think panic and overwhelmed are good descriptions of how I felt. On edge is a good one too.

Hurting myself numbed me out...also, a way to express my anger and how bad I felt. Feels like there was so much pressure to do the "right thing." Remember how painful and confusing the teasing was and how bad I felt. Wanting to immediately cry and feeling really crushed...I eventually stopped sharing even positive stuff and asking questions. Numb out...just go away. Slowly disappearing and losing myself.

Can't remember when I stopped crying I know we talked about that it probably happened in infancy. I feel kind of a numb sadness. I can hear so much yelling in my head...feels a little crazy...like I don't have control to turn it off or lower the volume. Sometimes, this goes through my head during the day. Feeling like crying or screaming or both.

Observations: I don't preview what is coming next in my journal, I usual just write as I go. However, I would swear this sounds like I completed the slideshow in time for this journal entry because so much of it is contained in the images. It is also a little of where I am at with still trying to accept and come to terms with how bad it was and how bad my acting out was. I still can't cry even though it feels like I would feel better if I could just sob.

My Truth ~ My Childhood Slideshow

This slide show will be triggering, so if you are not in a good place do not watch it!!! Don't even try to push yourself!! If you are triggered, please go to your safe places and people. You can also blog or write a long comment. I don't mind and Blogger seems to take it. Be gentle with yourself.

This particular slideshow has been in the works on and off for a couple of weeks. I felt compelled to put it together and at the same time it repelled me. I did not want to deal with the content. I do note that there is some lack of emotional words, but the pictures speak louder than words.

I am very apprehensive about posting this one and there is shame at what I experienced and what I have done. Again, is it really okay to share what is really inside. Also, I don't want to believe that it is about me and I am afraid of how people will respond because it is difficult for me to watch. Yet, another step of telling my truth ~ my childhood. And, the fears that come.

I also really did this slideshow for my process which also means that there are some things that won't make any sense, but to me. Don't worry about not getting it. Thanks.

Past & Present all in my head and feelings!! ~ Slideshow I

This slide show will be triggering, so if you are not in a good place do not watch it!!! Don't even try to push yourself!! If you are triggered, please go to your safe places and people. You can also blog or write a long comment. I don't mind and Blogger seems to take it. Be gentle with yourself.

I wasn't feeling up to writing, but felt like I really wanted to finish this slide show that I've been working on. It is a way to tell myself and others what has been going on inside due to my current work in therapy and the flashbacks. I am overwhelmed, but I feel good about the slideshow. Yet, a little ashamed and embarrased as I again feel like I'm showing you a little too much of my soul. But, there must be a part of me that wants to share it; otherwise, I would not have posted it. It was also helpful for me in expressing, in someway, what it feels like in my head and my body. I think I will also put it up in my sidebar, but it will be more difficult to see.

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY: July 28, 2005~during work day

Hi Everyone!!! Yesterday's post and Wordle did me in...cannot focus on my mother right now. I am emotionally exhausted. So, here is a journal entry.


Geoffrey,

It is so very loud today...the suicidal thoughts, the plans, wanting to cut and bruise and planning ways to do it at work, wanting to die, the flashbacks and feeling bad.

I think, the feeling bad was made worse by two of my coworkers being very loud and wearing a lot of fragrance. Also, I've been panicky and generally on edge and overwhelmed and when they came in it just added, so much to it.

Feeling bad about what we talked about yesterday and just this week. Also, getting anxious with you being out of town. Also, feels like I need to cry. I just want to disappear and go away. Just die.

"Why," keeps running through my head. Why did my step-father and his father, Jon and the day program do what they did? I find it confusing. I also feel bad because I liked their attention and special treatment. I liked them and though that they liked me.

I keep hearing you saying that my step-father was sadistic. That seems really hard to accept. I don't want to see it like that. Yet, I know it fits. Even harder to see my mother in that light.

I've been in the car trying to get some quiet, bet now there is a jack hammer and gardeners going on all around me. I am feeling overwhelmed by all the noise. And, I don;t want to go back to the office.

So, I went for a walk. Came back and it was quiet until the two same coworkers returned from lunch. However, they did eventually quiet some. But, I've been feeling really overwhelmed, panicky and on edge. The thoughts have been getting louder. I found the utility knife at work, but didn't use it. Tempting. Feel like crying.

Sometimes, I feel like crying just because it feels good to have you listen to me. Your support and encouragement feels good. Really scares me too.

Also, thinking about what I said about when you went to San Jose about feeling like you were intentionally trying to hurt me. Makes more sense now, but only if I take into account that my step-father and my mother were sadistic. It is such a harsh word.

It has been bugging me trying to remember what you said over the weekend about why the teasing bothered me so much.

Flash of pictures, feelings and sensations about all the things we've been talking about. Feels so crazy, intrusive and stressing.

Observations: I am really emotionally wiped out, so I am not going to make any here. Maybe, later tomorrow or maybe not.

Growing up with a mother with a borderline personality disorder!!

If you are a parent with borderline personality disorder or any other type of mental illness, do not run away and I hope you don’t take this personally or become defensive because this is not my intent. I want to tell you what I experienced. Part of the damage is because my mother does not take responsibility for anything and everything is someone else’s fault. She doesn’t have any insight, does not think anything is wrong with her, has never had any treatment and still treats me in the same manner. Also, I did not have any sort of counter balance with her. If you are reading this, it probably means that you do have insight and have some way of counter balancing when you slip. When reading this please be gentle with yourself. Even with my having had a diagnosis of borderline personality disorder, my therapist told me that I would make a good mother.

Over the last couple of weeks, besides what has been going on in my blog, therapy has been extremely difficult as I am having a flood of auditory, visual and body memories related to the things that my mother used to say to me. My therapist is trying to get me to see that it doesn’t make sense because she has a borderline personality disorder (BPD). It only makes sense in the context that she was severly borderline.

Yes, my mother has a severe borderline personality disorder which I don’t really want to look at. I am defending and trying everything I can to look at something else, but her voice and what she said has been so loud in my head. My therapist assigned a Wordle to put those thoughts down on paper and I put over 100 phrases. I posted it, but you can’t read it because it is too small. You have to click on the picture to get a larger view. But, I don’t want anyone doing that until I’ve explained some of what a borderline personality disorder is and how I experienced it. This is going to be at least a two part series.

There are four books I recommend which are on the Amazon recommendation list on the widget in the right sidebar. They are I Hate You-Don't Leave Me, Stop Walking on Eggshells, Understanding the Borderline Mother and Surviving a Borderline Parent. Almost all of the clinical information will be coming from these books. Stop Walking on Eggshells has a workbook also their subtitle is Taking You Life Back When Someone You Care About Has Borderline Personality Disorder.

For me, the sexual abuse was horrendous and I am still working though it, but it was not the most damaging part of my abuse. It actually has its roots in my mother’s BPD and her ambivalence in not wanting me. Actually, neither of my parents wanted me and seemed to hate each other along with my father’s father not wanting me and blaming my mother on the pregnancy. Yes, they were married because of her being pregnant with me. She was never treated for her BPD and will deny that she needs therapy as a result she still does some of the same things to me as when I was a child.

In the Introduction to Surviving a Borderline Parent, it explains some of what a child might go through. “As a child, did you feel like you fell short, disappointing a parent, stepparent, or caretaker because you weren’t good enough, didn’t do enough, or just weren’t able to please, no matter how hard you tried? Did you feel responsible for your parent’s happiness and guilty if you felt happy yourself? Did you feel damned if you did and damned if you didn’t, that whatever you did or said was the wrong thing (and boy would you pay for it)? Were you accused of things you hadn’t done? Did you feel manipulated at times? Feel appreciated one minute and attacked the next? Thought you must be ‘crazy’ because a parent’s actions or reactions didn’t make any sense? Question your own intuition, judgment, or memory, believing you must have missed or misinterpreted something? Did you feel on guard all the time, that life with you parent was never predictable?

You weren’t crazy. Not then, and not now, though it may still feel that way. What felt crazy-making to you may well have been being parented by someone who had traits of borderline personality disorder.

No one chooses their parents and, as young children, once you’re brought into this world, you’re not in a position to opt out of your relationship with them In fact, you desperately need them-to provide food and shelter, to prompt you to learn, to model ways to interact in society, to nurture you, to show you affection, and to provide unconditional love. A parent with BPD, however, may not have been able to consistently provide all of these things to you, through no fault of deficit of yours. They may not have received that kind of care themselves. It may seem ironic, but your parent may actually have consciously or unconsciously reinforced you as the caretaker to meet his or her needs, to be the nurturer and provider of emotional support, even though you were a child.”

A couple of years ago when I first read this opening, I was quite shocked to see that someone put into words everything I experienced. Even, today as I write it, I still feel as if those words were meant directly for me. Also, I was definitely the "adult" and caretaker of my mother feeling the need to protect her, defend her and calm her down. (This is a really difficult post for me to write...I just want to go away, but it is also reinforcing that she really was borderline)

The following is a table taken from Understanding the Borderline Mother.

Variations in Maternal Functioning

The Ideal Mother versus The Borderline Mother

1. Comforts her child versus Confuses her child.


2. Apologized for inappropriate behavior versus Does not apologize or remember inappropriate behavior.


3. Takes care of herself versus Expects to be taken care of.


4. Encourages independence in her children versus Punishes or discourages independence.


5. Is proud of her children's accomplishments versus Envies, ignores, or demeans her children's accomplishments.


6. Builds her children's self-esteem versus Destroys, denigrates, or undermines self-esteem.


7. Responds to her children's changing needs versus Expects children to respond to her needs.


8. Calms and comforts her children versus Frightens and upsets her children.


9. Disciplines with logical and natural consequences verses Disciplines inconsistently or punitively.


10. Expects that her children will be loved by others versus Feels left out, jealous or resentful if the child is loved by someone else.


11. Never threatens abandonment versus Uses threats of abandonment (or actual abandonment) to punish the child.


12. Believes in her children's basic goodness versus Does not believe in her children's basic goodness.


13. Trusts her children versus Does not trust her children.

Okay, it is my turn to address each one of these the best I can in terms of my relationship with my mother...does anyone else want to volunteer for this please...oh, this is a blog not an interactive class. *sigh* I guess, I make the first comments, huh?

1. Comfort was always confusing to me because even to this day I do not think of her as a comforting person to go to. I would end up being yelled at, teased, comforting her, discounted or completely ignored. I quickly learned that she was not a person to go to.


2. Apologies are definitely not one of my mother's strong points. I actually cannot ever remember her apologizing to me. And, when "confronted" she would deny having done anything or saying anything wrong.


3. Taking care of herself is something that she did not do very well and I often, as I stated above, took care of her. My family tells a story of my getting angry at my grandmother for yelling at my mother. I kicked my grandmother and told her to be nice to her. I was only three.


4. Independence was a fine line because sometimes she wanted me to be more independent than I was prepared for or was age appropriate and, other times, I was too stupid to do it myself. At the age of 6, I walked halfway down the block to a major street past the 7-11, which was robbed numerous times, past the gun shop across one small street to purchase bread at the little bread store in the neighborhood.


5. Being proud is one thing that I'm actually unsure of because I know that she has said that she was proud of my accomplishments at school. I graduated with highest honors from high school and with honors from college and was given an big deal award from our faculty, but there was something in it that always felt like I was an extension of her so she was proud of herself and not necessarily me. I don't know if that makes sense to you. My therapist understands though. I've experience envy, ignoring and demeaning behavior toward me especially in relationship to my marriage, but I won't get into it. It would be a whole post in itself.


6. What self-esteem can occur when you are constantly being told you are stupid, evil, can't do anything and are teased and taunted at every opportunity.


7. Needs are something I don't think she ever saw in me. She has always said that she never had to worry about me. Even when I was admitted for my first psychiatric hospitalization she told me, "that I've always had a good head on my shoulders and have made good decisions." So, does that mean that I didn't need anyone because I had decided to hospitalize myself? What part of psychiatric hospitalization do people not get?


8. Well, I already wrote about calms and comforts. When I was a kid, I hit my head on a sharp edge of a coffee table and a family member saw it and I was calm and so was she. But, when my mother saw it she became hysterical and had to be calmed down and then I burst into tears because she scared me. I ended up needing stitches, but she was outside with a nurse who calmed her down while a family member held my hand and calmed me. Normally, I'm the one who can most immediately calm her down.


9. Discipline is something that was rather confusing because it never made sense when I would get into trouble or not. I could do exactly the same thing or say the same thing in the same circumstances and be ignored or it would blow up into this huge thing with her yelling at me and hitting me. It was like walking on eggshells all the time or a minefield, never knowing what was going to be set off and the mines kept moving. This was both with my mother and step-father. I received it from both sides.


10. Expects that others would love me. Uh, no not my experience because I was told that I was unlovable, evil, bad and that no one wanted me, liked me or loved me. "Feels left out, jealous or resentful if the child is loved by someone else." I do remember thinking in some circumstances that she was jealous or resentful of the attention I received versus her from certain individuals. Then, she would become extremely hostile and passive-aggressive toward me.


11. Abandonment, well my life started out with that, but as I became older it was threatened. She would tell me that she was going to just leave me somewhere or to kill me.


12. My goodness was obviously not a thing she believed with all the stuff that she did and said that constantly told me that I was evil and bad. I don't think I can get into that now...too difficult. Although the Wordle would give you an idea of what it has been like. It is on the side bar entitled, "Mommy Says!"


13. I really don't want to think or write about my mother trusting me or not.

So, that was difficult and that is a glimpse into what growing up with a borderline mother. No solid attachment anywhere or predictability. Please, unless you think you might be triggered, read the Wordle to gain a better perspective of the types of things that were said to me. I have left out quite a bit of information that would identify me much of which is the teasing and taunting phrases and family stuff. But, you will get a good enough picture.

Well, I am exhausted after doing this post and dealing with this in therapy. I think the most tiring part is that I am fighting the process. So enough for now, if I feel up to it, I'll do another part of it for tomorrow's post; otherwise, my old journal entries will have to do. Oh, don't forget to check out my Amazon book recommendations also. (hee-hee. I get paid if you purchase the books via my link or even if you click on it. Shhhh).

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY: July 27, 2005 ~ 6:20 pm ~ before session

Geoffrey,

I got through my afternoon meetings okay. Actually, I think, I did some good work with some difficult situations. But, it was like the moment the meeting ended the flashbacks, wanting to die, wanting to kill myself, make purchases and cut and bruise myself started even before I would leave the room.

Your call this afternoon was helpful, as well, as your recordings. [I was having a continually escalating difficult time with the thoughts and flashbacks. I was also calling him much more than before.] I went home in between meetings just to use the restroom and was tempted to bruise, but I remembered my promise to you this afternoon during our telephone call and did not do anything. Waiting for the Metrolink train to pass, I thought about that being a way to kill myself, but I wouldn't want to put anyone through that.

I've been thinking about what my step-father did is in a different category than his father, Jon and the day program. Then, I began to remember some of those incidents. After the time with my step-father, his father used to come into the room in the morning when I spent the night there or if his mother were with a client and I was taking a nap. I thought, I figured out a way to stop him in the morning as I remembered I started waking up first and then going into their room. He still bothered me sometimes during my nap or if we were alone in the garage he would put his hand in my underwear and put his fingers inside.

With Jon, I remember going to Magic Mountain with him on year and had a good time just the two of us. I even have some pictures of the park which had recently opened. He took me the following year and I had a good time. But, when we got to the parking lot, he had me lay down in the back seat, took my shorts and underwear off and forced himself on me. We never went anywhere together again. I remember thinking I made him mad, that I did something wrong because he didn't like me anymore.

At the day program, I remember one of the Mexican staff used to somehow get me away from the group to a fairly secluded areas at some of the parks. He would sort of playfully tackle me to the ground and put his fingers inside me. But, after one outing there wasn't many people left and I was playing billiards back at the center with the Kinks, "Lola" in the background.

He took me and his friend to one of the activity rooms furthest away from the everyone and locked the door and he forced himself on me. Then, his friend, who I thought was going to do the same, took some sort of wooden handled thing, like a broom handle or something...it was painted red and shoved it into me which really hurt. I remember the feel of the plastic mats under me sticking and just staring at the color blocks on the wall. He used to give me special treats like ice cream and let me sit in the front seat. I thought he liked me.

What my step-father's father, Jon and what happened at the day program was bad, but somehow I really put it in a different category and discount it as it wasn't as bad as what my step-father did...they seemed gentler. Seems confusing.

Observations: At the time that these memories began, I was in much denial. Also, I did not have all of the details of the extent of the sexual abuse from my step-father, his father or Jon. I also kept trying to really minimize what did occur. What I know now is that everyone except for the day program guys participated in sadistic ritualistic sexual abuse, but first gained my trust. As a result, my feeling betrayed and that I did something wrong was really heightened. In my journals, I can tell that I am slowly remembering details of the abuse. To this day, I still have a few new memories. I'm really tired of them and wish that it would stop.

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY: July 25/26, 2005

Geoffrey,

As we discussed, I told my husband tonight about my bruising, but not the extent of how. I told him that this is why I've been so secretive. I also told him that I've been having flashbacks. He asked if he could do anything to help and I told him that even though during these times that I want to push him away that I really need him to hug me. He told me he really liked me letting him in and trusting him more. However, I'm feeling badly and wanting to bruise [automatic reaction to talking]

The question "why" keeps running through my head. Sometimes, followed by "what did I do wrong?" It is really difficult to accept that I couldn't do anything. Also, difficult to comprehend how my mother could know and not do anything. [It wasn't why me, but why do people do these things.]

Actually, she just hurt me more. I keep remembering how physically painful everything was. Feels like a part of me is just screaming "why?" I even remember the feel of the carpet on my skin. I keep thinking that I just wanted my step-father to like me. I don't know why that was so important. Maybe, I thought he wouldn't hurt me anymore if I could just get him to like me. I thought he hated me and sometimes thought my mother hated me too.

Beginning with last week and especially last night, I keep having flashes of my step-father and his father being on top of me in his bedroom. I want to talk and I don't want to talk. But, the flashbacks are becoming progressively louder, more vivid and there are more sensations. I think, waking up in a panic last night had to do with remembering my step-father being on top of me.

I didn't sleep very well last night and woke up extremely tired. It was good that I didn't have anything until 10 am and 10 minutes from home, so I could just do documentation and not have to interact with anyone. I think, part of the difficulty in sleeping has to do with having told my husband. Still makes me feel anxious and bad.

I'm really wanting to bruise today and I am trying really hard not to do so. I've been having some of the same flashbacks and new ones of being at my step-father's parents. I really hated going there in the summer with just him.

If my mother came, it was sort of okay. But, the summers were bad even spent several nights at a time including a week stay at a time. I really didn't want to stay. I remember being scared of my step-father and his father. It was kind of confusing because his father paid attention to me and he played the game and stuff I wanted to play, so I sort of liked him, but he scared me.

I didn't hate him like my step-father. Kind of confusing to me. But, I remember his father touching me. The house was usually really loud and lots of people were in and out all the time. I remember the smell of the incesnse which was being burned most of the time. I remember that was the first time I burned myself with the incense when no one was looking.

I remember his father being relatively quiet and passive and that he didn't work...don't know why. However, his mother was really loud and bossy. She did psychic reading usually in their bedroom and she seemed to talk non-stop. She wasn't able to work due to some neurological disease. It was fairly easy for his father to come into my step-father's room when I was taking a nap or sleeping, as know one noticed he was gone and it was so loud I don't think anyone ever heard him with me.

He was gentler than my step-father, so sometimes, I think, it wasn't as bad. And, in someways, it wasn't. It didn't hurt as much and I wasn't scared that he would harm me. I kind of liked him and thought he liked me. [My journals are telling my story as I remembered things. It was only until much later that I remembered the real truth...I couldn't handle it then.]

Feels like I need to talk about this stuff. But, it makes me really anxious. And I start to question if I'm making things up or that you are not going to believe me or that it isn't okay to talk. I've already talked about some of this before. [Again, my own thoughts and feeling and what I was told projected onto my therapist. However, every bit of it felt real and was automatic thinking.]

Past Journal Entry: July 22, 2005 ~ 6:00 pm

Geoffrey,

I haven't been feeling very good since last night. I was really feeling bad and felt like when I got in my car that I detached and just went away. Felt like that when I got home which is why, I think, I pushed my husband away. Also, why I didn't leave too many messages with you ...not that I didn't thing to do so. However, at work, it was a little difficult as I had a two-hour meeting in the morning at the office.

I've felt buzzy and been having trouble staying present even during my afternoon meeting. I've been feeling really bad and kind of sensitive to everything. Feel like I've just been going away. The thoughts have been loud too. Really, really want to bruise. Having flashbacks too. Feel like crying.

I remember how bad I felt all the time and confused and scared. I wish I could stop seeing my step-father or my mother's face when they were angry. I was so scared. I sometimes feel my mother grabbing my right arm to get my attention or to slap me. She grabbed really hard. Sometimes, I can feel him grabbing my left arm to yell at me. Sometimes, I can hear them yelling at each other or at me and how scared I was and how my stomach hurt and how much I just wanted to cry.

And, I keep having flashes of the whole Barbie thing, including the physical sensations, how much it hurt, how terrified I was, how angry I was at both of them, how painful it was that no one listened to me, how bad I felt, how confused and how much I wanted to cry, but didn't.

Just the look in his eyes scared me. I wasn't sure how much he was going to do because he seemed so out of control and so angry with me. I remember dreading my mother coming home because at that point, I think, I had already given up hope that she would listen to me. She listened to what he said and that was it...she always believed whatever he said, so he set me up sometimes. I can feel myself going away right now.

Felt like everyone was so angry all the time. I guess they were. The look he had in his eyes was the same look he had when we were at his parents in his bedroom. By then, I really knew not to make a sound especially cry. It was the same look that he would get when he would scream at me. My chest and stomach really hurt. I really want to just disappear...make it all go away.

There is also a small part that wants to talk to you and not carry it on my own. There is also a part that says, not to talk because I already have talked about this stuff. I really was scared all the time of him and of my mother. I'm tearing up a little.

Observations: I am back to work after taking time off and continuing to have greater difficulties despite the increased medications. I felt like I was barely holding it together, but felt like I had to...it was like I couldn't lose control over work too. Work and school were always two places that I excelled and I kept thinking I'll get caught up which, under normal circumstances, I could have.

In actuality, I was having greater and greater difficulties at the time being present and focusing. I was still seeing Geoffrey, I think, five times a week. Yesterday, I was talking with a friend who was also a coworker, but left before this time. She is one of the few people that know about this blog. We are alot alike and she asked me, "What the hell were you working for? Your ass should have been out of there!" I told her that in writing my blog that I realize that I should not have been working or functioning at the level that I was. Then she said, "You had to keep it together at work for you." Looking at it now, I think it was a pretty unwise decision, but I don't think it would change my actions. Thing is no one at work really knew. Oh, I was also rapidly losing weight which was being monitored and people began to make comments at work.

Past Journal Entry: July 14, 2005

Geoffrey,

When I came home today, I really wanted to bruise myself, so I decided to fingerpaint. After the fourth one, when I looked at it my stomach dropped and it scared me. Made me feel my hopeless and I just wanted to cry, so I stopped painting.

Remembered how hopeless I felt that it would get better, anyone would ever listen, anyone would ever understand, that I would ever feel better, that the suicidal thoughts would stop or I would stop wanting to hurt myself. Right now, my stomach and chest hurt and I want to cry. Remember being hopeless that my mother would ever listen to me, understand me, take care of me or protect me.

I really don't feel good right now...really wanting to hurt myself. Really want to bruise. Self-injury seems like it was my way of numbing out, punishing myself and expressing rage toward myself, my step-father and my mother.

Keep having flashbacks. Mostly, just waves of feelings and just wanting to cry. So, overwhelmed, panicked, sad, scared, angry, confused, trapped, helpless and hopeless. Feeling like I was bad all the time and deserved to die. Either feels like I'm in the apartment or in our house. Felt so alone and like no one would ever listen or understand.

Sometimes the flashbacks are an actual event. Remembering some of the arguments, getting hit, screamed at, my step-father forcing me to eat the tofu or just the anger in his face like he had with the Barbie stuff. [I'll explain this in the observation section.]

Sometimes, remember numbing out, going away, trying to disappear, etc... Happened frequently even at school, in the car, listening to music, reading, watching television, etc... Remember not knowing what was being said or losing track of my teachers or the television show...basically, like losing time. Sometimes, the suicidal thoughts would take me away. Other times, there would be nothing. Just buzzy and numb. My stomach and chest hurt. Can feel myself tearing up.

Observations: Today as I write this I find it interesting that I used the words, "I don't feel good right now," because that is what I have been saying and have not been able to be very specific. I did have a "homework" assignment with doing another Wordle about "I don't feel good." I posted as the last image on the side bar, if you want to see.

Well, up above, I said I would write about the "Barbie" stuff. I'm really not wanting to do it. Feeling a little ashamed and I know it will make it more real than I want to do right now...or maybe I want it to be more real. This memory isn't one that I repressed until this go-around in therapy. I spoke about it when I first was in therapy with Geoffrey, but that is as far as it went and there was not much else.

Okay, here goes...During the time my-stepfather and I were alone in the apartment, he only grew more violent and sadistic, at times, almost verges on torture. There was an incident when he wanted to play Monopoly, but I didn’t. I wanted to play with my Barbie’s. He began to scream at me and called me spoiled and that I need to do what he tells me to do. He pushed me to the ground and pulled my pants and underwear off and shoved one of my Barbie’s feet first into my vagina and then removed it and shoved the second one in…it felt like he was intentionally trying to hurt me and like he shoved it in as far as he could while turning it. I felt like I was going to pass out it hurt so much. I also remember the green carpet and my trying to dig my nails into it because it hurt so much. I remember the feel of the shallow pattern on my hand. Then, later on my face, I could feel the carpet.

Then, he had forced me on my stomach and began beating me with his belt. I wanted to die…felt like he was going to kill me. When my mother came home, she immediately began yelling and hitting and slapping me because my step-father had told her that I "misbehaved" that day. I was assaulted and raped by my step-father with my Barbies and then assaulted by my mother. (Okay now, I want to go away and take it all back, no one is going to believe me, shouldn't have written it, it wasn't that bad, I'm lying, etc...all going through my head.)

When I did the fingerpaintings below, my last one scared me because I felt the hopelessness which is, I think, represented by the black. Right now, I'm thinking about feeling that black hole in my chest, the one that all I can say now is, "I don't feel good."

Past Journal Entry: July 12, 2005 ~ Evening ~ Part II

Continuation of Past Journal Entry of July 12, 2005

Feels like I'm trying to comprehend how bad it got when I was a teenager, but it is like trying to grasp a cloud. I can't seem to quite get it. But, if how I've been feeling and thinking is any indication...it was quite awful [At this point in time, I am having a difficult time with finding the right words to describe how I am feeling so I just keep saying awful. My therapist says that it is/was an indication of how young I was during the first sets of trauma]. I feel like crying.

School, church and our family friend were my escapes. And, Miss B was really a good buffer...Also, someone else to take care of my mother. I really wanted to live with her...almost did one summer and semester because it was so hot. She had air conditioning, but we didn't.

From my senior year on, it seems that the only time my step-father and I spoke was when we were arguing or he was screaming or yelling at me. Not, that he was home much even when my mother was pregnant and required bed rest. I got to the point where on most nights, he didn't come home after work, but went out with his buddies and played basketball and then went drinking afterward. My mother either took her anger out on me and before she needed bed rest we would go out to eat and go shopping. Most of the time, Miss B would come.

My step-father really enjoyed boxing and would do the pay per view stuff and invite a bunch of friends over. I just remember being so on edge (even more so than just the fear of being killed) because about a week before the event my mother would start to get moody and then the whole cleaning of the house while screaming at me the day of the event.

Then, the party would be so loud. Sometimes, I had to stay home and listen to my mother complain. Other times, we would go shopping. He would always end up drunk and would never help setting up or cleaning after. So, my mother would be even angrier when we cleaned up and would either complain the whole time, throw things and/or scream at me. I used to get so anxious throughout the whole process. And, everyone in the house would be on edge and there would be daily arguments about it.

I am really grateful that my husband doesn't watch sports or even television much and doesn't need to have things loud.

During my second semester in college, my step-father had a psychiatric hospitalization for almost slugging his supervisor, but instead hit his locker injuring his hand. (Sure wish, I could have seen his chart) Afterward, he was home all the time on disability and began a lawsuit against his employer, which he eventually won a settlement. But, that was another source of their arguing.

Often, I didn't sleep as, he would be typing notes on an electric typewriter all night without going to bed or he would be up all night watching television...usually adult films...the volume was loud. Since he wasn't working, he was home all the time. I started working which helped, but that was also when my eating disorder became a more significant problem as my boss even talked to me about my weight loss and not eating.

My third semester was really awful because I wasn't going to school as I took time off to go to Europe, so took the whole semester off. The problem was that my step-father wasn't working, so often it was the two of us at home. I tried to stay in my bedroom as much as I could and worked as much as I could. It made me even more anxious all the time. Also, a couple I met at church befriended me, and "adopted" me into their family which helped a great deal as they had a son that required "babysitting."

I came across some of my journaling during this time and afterward until the divorce and it all sounds so familiar. Constantly, thinking of specific ways to kill myself and thinking that it would be better off if I were dead, that no one cares, I don't matter, I'm manipulative, I want too much and that I really hate myself. So many writings with those exact words. I though of suicide everyday and continued with the self-injury with bruising and cutting. I remember feeling so hopeless, misunderstood, alone, trapped and that I was bad.

Also, in the writing was my anger toward my mother because she constantly compared me to my best friend and say things like, "Why couldn't you be more like her." According to my writings, she used to tell me that my best friend was prettier, smarted, got along with her parents, didn't cause problems, etc...

I guess, I have always felt I wasn't enough or didn't deserve to be alive or exist. I just caused too many problems. I was also anxious and scared all the time. Although I don't remember it, the college group leader recently told me that he remembers my being afraid to go home.